‘I had another look at your pieces when I was last in. All the ones on the shelf have sold. Sue showed me some of your mugs and plates. There was a guy in the other day – from one of the tourist offices, told Sue they’d like to stock your mugs and plates there, with all the other souvenirs of the island.’
‘Really?’
He nodded. Maddie was touched that he had taken the time to visit the café and talk to Sue.
‘You’ve got talent, Maddie.’ He glanced out the window and Maddie followed his gaze over the windswept sand, the fringe of the sea lapping at the edge. ‘Anyway, I told Sue I was bringing you these, to start you off again – see what you thought.’
‘I think it’s really kind, Greg.’ She sat down on the sofa next to him. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured carefully placing the tray of paints back in the box. It was a delicate dance they were doing with each other: together, apart, together and stop. What would today bring? She ached to be held by him, but she didn’t want to scare him away. She turned to him. ‘I was going to open some wine…?’ She held her breath.
He hesitated. Time seemed to stand still. ‘Sure, I’ll go pour us some.’ He stood up, sauntered into the kitchen, his boots clipping on the kitchen floor. She heard the cupboard doors click open and shut and the whoosh of the fridge being opened. He was so at home at the cottage.
As he came back in with two glasses of chilled rosé, he nodded to the window.
‘Look, you’ve got your inspiration right there.’ Greg tilted his head at a seagull perched on the fence at the bottom of the garden, with its head crooked, looking at them both.
She smiled. ‘Yes, I know. The view never fails to fascinate me, especially the colours the sea comes up with,’ she said taking a sip of wine and pulling her legs up underneath her. She could feel the fabric of her sofa on her feet, the soft weave of the cushion covers. ‘The hues of the water are amazing, and the best bit is every part of the day is different. Sometimes I watch it for a long time, the shades of blue, the sky angry some days, then peaceful the next. It’s like it has a spirit animal of its own.’
‘It probably does.’ He took a sip of wine. ‘And it changes when you’re out to sea – it can look as calm as anything from the shore, then when you’re out there—’ he shook his head ‘—it’s like you’re in the middle of the Atlantic some days, the weather can change in an instant.’
She looked out to the sparkling water as the sun shimmered across it in the hot August sky, tiny breakers foaming up across the water, the odd sailing boat appearing on the horizon. It was so peaceful you couldn’t imagine it any other way.
‘So how’s Ed getting on?’ She had been wondering for the last week, but hadn’t said much to Ed. He was normally shattered when he came in and she didn’t want to push it.
‘He’s OK. We’re working him quite hard. There’s a lot to take on when you first start, all the terminology, getting used to how to deal with the kids, the safeguarding talks, new staff.’ He smiled. ‘He’s doing fine.’
The air was hot and sticky and little rivers of condensation ran down her wine glass pooling over her fingers. She reached out and gently touched his arm with her free hand.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘For looking after Ed – and for the paints.’
He put his hand out as if to touch her fingers, then abruptly put it in his lap and frowned.
‘Listen, Maddie, I wanted to say sorry, for last time, when I got so angry. I just, you know, one minute you’re going down one track, having lived a certain life, then the next, you’re a father to a nineteen-year-old… It takes some adjusting.’ He took a gulp of wine. The condensation from his glass shimmered in the late afternoon sun as a golden glow fell over his cheek.
‘I’m the one who’s sorry,’ she murmured, running a finger over the rim of her wine glass, listening to the call of a gull outside and closing her eyes.
Greg broke the silence. ‘Have you thought about painting some canvases?’ He nodded at the paining on the mantelpiece of the bay. ‘Maybe